


Taste the Wine

by priestessamy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Adult Efi, Alternate Universe - Cabaret, F/F, Human Orisa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-02-27 11:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13247076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/priestessamy/pseuds/priestessamy
Summary: Emily is very excited to visit the London cabaret known as Queen's Row. She would never expect to discover that her girlfriend, Lena, has one hell of a history with that place. Not to mention Lena's gorgeous, intriguing ex that Emily can't get out of her head.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was only supposed to be a one-shot and then I got really hooked on this stupid idea so now it's probably going to be 15 chapters or something. Lots of angst and fluff. Almost everyone is gay. These are my trademarks.

Lena slumped against Emily, causing her to chuckle in response. They were both covered in a fine layer of sweat, breathing heavily. “Well, that was quite a marathon, eh love?”

Emily gave a small sigh of amusement, her eyes reflexively rolling. “Yes, it quite literally was.” She reached up to affectionately ruffle Lena's hair, not even caring if it was a little gross and messy. That was love, after all. “And if I'm not mistaken, I won our little bet.”

“We finished at the same time!” Her girlfriend pouted dramatically at her. “Doesn't that count for anything??”

“Yes, it makes me feel very proud of you. But as I recall, you were certain that you would be the first one across the finish line, just because you were a sprinter at university. I tried to tell you, no matter how athletic you are, they're two entirely different skill sets! Sprinting is all about that burst of speed right at the beginning. A marathon requires stamina and perseverance.”

Lena huffed. “Well I know that now!” She leaned on her a little more, looking like her legs might give out on her at any moment. “So, you won, Miss Smarty Pants. You get to pick what we do tonight. What's the plan?”

Emily had already pretty much assumed that she would win this silly little bet. Even people who trained for years and participated in every marathon they could didn't bother with being the first across the finish line. Lena, for all her pep and energy, wasn't great at maintaining it for long periods of time. She was a woman that existed in bursts, fits, and starts. “We're gonna head home, shower, get all dolled up, and then I thought we might investigate Queen's Row.”

She expected to see Lena look excited, but something resembling shock and worry crossed her face instead. “O-Oh. That uh... that club. It's like a cabaret/burlesque kinda thing, yeah? That's kind of a weird choice though, innit.”

The hesitation was a surprise. Emily was sure Lena would appreciate the suggestion, as fun-loving as she tended to be. “I mean, I've gone to strip clubs with girlfriends before. This is way more normal than that. They do all kinds of fun stuff – song and dance, performance, racier stuff, but also comedy! It'll be great, I promise. And...” she purred as she lowered her voice. “If you let me have this, then we can shower together when we get home~”

She was definitely certain that would work, but even the promise of a shared shower only barely managed to crack whatever barrier she was trying to put up. “Yeah. Yeah okay.”

* * *

Things seemed to normalize once they got back to their apartment, and by the time they were under that hot water, whatever was bothering Lena started to melt away. Maybe it really was just nerves, or perhaps it would be something that she would explain more fully in time.

Emily felt absolutely fabulous in one of her favorite red dresses and matching heels, and Lena was dashing as ever in a shirt and tie. They made quite the pair as they caught a cab and headed into the city to check out Queen's Row.

It was a completely unassuming place, looking like pretty much any other club in the city. It had a bright neon sign spelling out the name in glowing letters with a stylized crown on top. The inside was actually quite classy, perhaps to match the regal name, with lots of soft lighting and tasteful gilding and satin and velvet and holy shit Emily felt like she had just found her new favorite place in the whole city. They were greeted by a young asian girl who smiled warmly at them both. “Hello and welcome to Queen's Row, table for tw-” She paused and stared hard right at Lena. “...Tracer?”

“Hah, no this is my girlfriend Lena,” Emily replied with a good-natured laugh.

The woman in question cleared her throat softly. “Hey... Diva...”

Emily's head whipped to the side, staring down Lena in disbelief. “Baby? What the hell is going on?”

'Diva' seemed to realize that she was about to get drawn into an awkward conversation and hurried to move away, answering a phone that suspiciously wasn't ringing.

“Alright, alright, look, I... the thing is... See... I-I used to work here. And Tracer was my stage name.” Emily must have had one hell of a look on her face because she kept talking, trying to make it all make sense. “I really did do track and field in secondary. But in university, I worked here. Dancing, vaudevillian goofs, slapstick, all kinds of stuff. It was great. Once I joined the RAF though, that was that. I became Cadet Oxton. This was a phase of my life and I loved it. But I swear to you, that's all it was, yeah?”

Emily could hardly believe it. That was what burdened her so much all evening? It seemed so... trivial in her eyes. But... probably best not to make fun of her when she was looking so fragile. “Aww, c'mere Oxton.” She drew her into a tight hug, nuzzling her nose tenderly. “I don't mind in the slightest, you goof. I don't mind that you used to work here – hell, I think it's wonderful! And I don't mind if you've got some secrets. Everyone does that too. You know me, I'm a simple kind of gal. All I care about is that you're happy.” She drew back one more time to look into her eyes and check that Lena was feeling okay. “We can go somewhere else if you're not feeling it.”

“Mm-mm!” Lena shook her head as that glorious smile finally started to show again. “I really should see how all the girls are doing. Um, and uh... one last little surprise, my ex probably still works here, so... that'll be a ball.”

“If you'd like, I could seat you somewhere toward the back so she won't notice you?” The girl, Diva, had since rejoined them looking somewhat bashful. “I saw you hugging so I figured the storm was over.”

Lena turned around and Emily's arms wrapped around her like she had done so many times. It was such a familiar position. “Nahhh, it's okay D. My lady here wants to see the show, and sitting in the dark corner just won't do. If Widow decides she wants to make a thing of it, that's her business.”

The two of them shared a smart salute and Diva led them into the main part of the club to a table near the center of the room, fairly close to the stage. Like a proper charmer, Lena pulled her seat out for her. Just as their hostess disappeared, another woman approached with a smile like a knife. If it were possible to say she was smiling warmly, that... might be the case? It was difficult to tell what the intention was behind a face like that.

“And so the conquering hero returns, with a fair maiden in tow no less. Tracer, my dear, it would be my most divine pleasure to bring you and your lady-friend a drink.” Wow, Emily thought Lena had a thick accent. But this woman was more Irish than four leaf clover dipped in Guinness.

Lena chuckled, nervously messing with her hair. “It would also be your job, unless things have drastically changed Moira. This is Emily by the way. Emily, Moira.”

Moira gave a low bow, quite regal. “A pleasure, lass. Either Efi or Orisa will be by shortly to take your order. Not positive they were around before you left. They're on drink duty tonight, but if you come some other time, you might be able to catch the twins' double-act, it's a true delight.”

* * *

Finally the two had their drinks – wine for Emily, a fruity sugary concoction for Lena – and the lights dimmed. It was time for the show to begin. An older egyptian woman in a black dress and an eyepatch emerged through the curtain with a microphone, their MC for the evening. “Good evening, one and all, to Queen's Row. We have a marvelous show for you tonight, as we do every night. Performances to delight, amaze, and if we're lucky, titilate.” She winked her good eye and the crowd cheered excitedly. This was punctuated by the opening notes from “Let's Get It On” playing through the speakers, causing the woman to chuckle. “I'm your Mistress of Ceremonies, Ana. And as always, I would be nothing without musical assistance from the incomparable, indescribable, and arguably ineffable... DJ Sombra.”

She motioned grandly to a cyberpunk wonderland in the corner where an energetic latina thanked the crowd for their applause by giving an impromptu Melbourne shuffle and a cheery wave. “ _¡Que huela!_ ”

“And now, for the first performance, a rendition of “I'm Tired” a la Madeline Kahn, with my daughter Fareeha tickling the ivories, and her wife Angela singing. Please welcome them to the stage~” She disappeared, and the curtain opened to reveal a woman who was very clearly related to the MC, wearing a dashing suit, sitting at a baby grand. Fulfilling the trope was a gorgeous blonde reclining across the piano in a sparkly gown.

As promised, they kept it cheesy and bawdy and stupid, and there was a huge emphasis on being tired of men (wink wink nudge nudge say no more guv'nah) and it was alternately funny and sexy.

In-between sets, DJ Sombra would play some music and occasionally dance in various styles, perhaps to amuse herself as much as the audience. Other times she would mess around with the lights to put on cute little colorful shows. She seemed like the perfect kind of background person for this setting.

The next act was an Indian woman, Symmetra, who was dressed in a traditionally styled outfit and a prosthetic arm covered in gorgeous henna designs. Her dance was precise, alluring, intense, and Emily couldn't tear her eyes away from the scene.

Mei-Ling was another pianist, a solo act who did a cover of “The Scientist”. She kept it breathy and sweet, and at the end of it Em reached up to find she had a few tears lingering in the corners of her eyes.

Following that was... something quite different. A Russian woman who was almost certainly a body-builder, emerged through the curtain to the hoots and hollers of damn near the entire club. Not like Emily could really blame any of them, especially not when this Zarya lady was wearing little more than shorts and a sports bra. Her act was a confusing but enjoyable mix of lifting impressively heavy objects (and other performers) and delivering a kind of send-up of Yakov Smirnoff-style comedy. Everyone was laughing and cheering, so it hardly mattered if it was a little off the wall.

“And now... the performance that I'm sure many of you have been waiting for with bated breath. They call her Widowmaker. She kills men, then steals their widows away for a night of passion the likes of which they have never before experienced. Watch out, ladies. Perhaps tonight is the night she steals _you_...” She faded into the shadows, and the curtains opened on a painted night sky.

And then, from above the stage, a woman descended on a pair of long thick strands of silk. Emily had never seen someone do this before, so she was completely drawn in. It didn't exactly hurt that the dancer herself was a beautiful, lithe woman in a simple black bodysuit with a red hourglass design – tattooed and strong and intense. The realization that she was falling slightly in love with the performer was quickly followed up by the realization that this was 'Widow as in Lena's ex Widow' and she felt a whole new level of confused and slightly awful.

Things finally wound down and everyone came back out for a bow. That was when Emily made eye contact with Widow, and the woman actually smiled.

* * *

The two of them sat there at their table for a while longer, discussing the show, enjoying their drinks, and very clearly ignoring anything about the subject of Miss Widowmaker or what 'Tracer' did when she worked here. Emily just talked brightly about the married couple's act and how cool the DJ was. Things were winding down and it seemed like it was time to head home. Which was just about the time the African girl they had learned was Orisa came over to them with a bright smile. They hadn't ordered any more drinks, so she wasn't entirely sure what to expect here.

“Tracer? Ah, sorry, that's just what everyone keeps calling you, sorry... Lena, you and your girlfriend have been invited backstage. Widow said she'd like to see you in her dressing room.” She shuffled her feet awkwardly, obviously aware that she was bringing a potentially upsetting message. But it had been delivered, and that was the important thing.

Lena looked over at her with her eyebrows arched. “We don't have to.”

“Okay. But. Is it bad that I kind of want to?” God, just saying that out loud made her heart beat a little faster. It was a terrible idea. An awful idea. A wonderful, awful idea.

Surprisingly, her girlfriend actually began to laugh, then dramatically stood up from the table. “Probably, but you know me. My baby gets what my baby wants, eh?” Lena extended a hand to her, which Emily gratefully took, pulling her to her feet. “Let's go... see Widow!”

 


	2. Chapter 2

The area behind the stage was actually not particularly exciting, but then that was often the case in almost any production. You had to store things back there, you had to make room for performers to do their thing, there was all kinds of equipment. But Emily had never been one for the limelight, so it was still oddly exciting, even if it was mostly broken lights and cinder brick walls.

Lena knew where the right dressing room was without missing a beat, which perhaps sent just the tiniest of daggers through her heart. She hesitated just a moment, then knocked. The door opened a moment later by the woman herself, having changed out of her costume and into a robe that somehow managed to actually show more skin than the tantalizing bodysuit. “Please, come into my parlor~”

“Said the spider to the flies...” Emily muttered, the words leaving her mouth before she could stop herself.

Surprisingly, Widow just laughed brightly as the three of them entered, completely shattering the stoic image she had been projecting thus far. “It's a stage act, darling. I'm harmless.” She shut the door, then went to a little sidetable where she kept a bottle of wine and some glasses. It gave Emily a chance to look around the room, admiring just how much effort the woman had gone to in order to make this place look like the main part of the club, all soft and inviting.

No, this was the den of the devil. Her girlfriend's ex. This was a bad place for bad people.

“Wine?” Widow passed them each a glass, and Emily took it like a fool. “Ah, _mon dieu_ , we haven't been properly introduced yet. I'm Amelie.”

Emily hurried to sip some of the wine, and of course it was amazing. She could see that Lena was drinking too, so at least if it was poisoned, they were going down together. So she reached out and took Amelie's hand, shaking it firmly. “Emily...” The woman drew her hand back, another bright laugh escaping her. “Wh-What?”

“Well you must admit... Emily. Amelie. There's a kind of parallel to be drawn here, no? Tracer darling, is there something you'd like to admit?”

Poor Lena's face was about as red as the wine. “Oi, the only thing to admit here is that I waited a week longer than normal to ask her out because I was terrified of exactly this! And I don't really appreciate you poking fun...”

Even Emily was laughing now as she pressed a little closer into her girlfriend before glancing back at their host. She was upsettingly charming in person, and that was making it hard to hate her. “I'd rather share a vaguely similar name than to come here and find out we're basically the same person. The persona might be an act, but you can still do some very amazing things on that stage, Amelie.”

“Ahn, no no... It is something anyone can do with enough training, after all.” The woman waved her hand dismissively as she went over to sit down.

Lena rolled her eyes and started to wander around the dressing room, looking over things. Perhaps looking for changes since the last time she had seen it. “Ames, by that logic, literally anybody could say that about anybody. If you can't take a compliment about your insane level of talent, then just assume she was complimenting your drive or your work ethic or whatever.”

Whoops. Perhaps Emily had accidentally dug up an old argument? It was difficult to tell. “Hm, so you two used to have a double act right? What was it like?” It was a dumb thing to ask about but her curiosity was getting the better of her.

“Aww, you don't wanna hear about that, love.”

“She asked, did she not? Clearly, she does.” Amelie looked at her and smiled, somehow both warm and cold at the same time. “We each had our own performances of course. Tracer was a bumbling pilot who could never seem to do anything right. I was a sexy enemy spy. When we worked together, it was a vaudevillian affair. I was the straight man who had captured her or was trying to seduce her for information. Tracer was the banana woman who knew almost nothing of value. My favorites were the nights Ana let us get a little racy with it. The crowd seemed to enjoy watching me tie her to a chair while she flopped around uselessly. She was really quite good.” The woman got an almost dreamy look in her eyes, perhaps picturing the memories playing out in front of her.

Information like that should have been upsetting for Emily. But she had to admit, it sounded like it would have been a joy to watch. It didn't hurt that poor Lena's face was red as a cherry at that point.

Before the conversation could really get any further, there was a sudden rhythmic knocking at the door. “Ey, Widow! We're getting plastered. When you're done seducing your ex and her girlfriend, get out here or the booze is gonna be all gone!”

Amelie rolled her eyes dramatically and set her drink aside, half-drunk. “Thank you, Olivia dear, you're a treasure as always~!”

Lena drained her wine glass desperately and set it down. “Well, that's our cue to get outta your hair then, Ames. Thanks for the wine.”

“Nonsense.” Lena and Emily both looked at her in surprise. “You simply must join us. I'm sure the others would like a chance to see you, not to mention getting to know Emily. Come come, I won't be taking no for an answer~” They shared a look before hurrying after her.

* * *

Even with just a few changes, the club felt like a completely different place now. The curtain was drawn, the lights were up, and a number of chairs and tables had been rearranged into a little circle. Everyone else was already gathered together with any number of varied and colorful drinks. Each of them cast a glance as Emily, Lena, and Amelie joined them, suspicious or amused or just curious. Amelie seemed completely unphased as she went to the bar where Moira handed her a highball glass with an ice sphere and something hard.

“Took you long enough, Black Swan. Any longer and we were gonna start taking bets on what you three were getting up to in there. Okay, that's a lie, we already did...” The DJ, Sombra or Olivia or whatever, seemed to have absolutely no problem poking fun at the situation as she lounged on her chair in an almost impossible pose. She didn't so much sit as drape. Next to her was the Indian woman, quite amused by her antics.

Amelie, for her part, just laughed and sat down next to her, sipping her drink. “Pah, I was a perfect gentlewoman. We were merely talking.”

A woman that Emily recognized from the show as Mei lifted her hand with a bright, charming smile. Unlike before, she was now wearing a comfortable pair of jeans and a fluffy sweater. She sat next to the bodybuilding comedienne, nestled against her broad shoulder. “It would appear I've won the bet, Olivia.”

“I am glad to know that someone believes me to be a good person, Mei-Ling...” Amelie muttered, casting a glare at the DJ.

Moira, still manning the bar dutifully, filled two more glasses and motioned Emily and Lena over to take them. “In my experience, one can be a gentlewoman and still seduce two beautiful women. It's hardly a herculean task. Back me up on this, Tracer.”

“No comment. Less than no comment. Negative one comment.” Lena took one of the glasses and quickly drained it, grimacing as she set it down on the bar – slammed it really. Emily could see that the her girlfriend was drinking pretty hastily and opted to sip at her own drink very slowly. No sense in both of them being completely gone. She took her hand and guided Lena over to the circle of seats, sitting down near the married couple.

The blonde woman, Angela, shook her head and sighed. “Honestly, I know that we have a reputation for being the Gayest Thing in this part of town, but sometimes it gets just a little too ridiculous even for me. Please just ignore them. I think it says a great deal about this place that Lena was willing to come back and even see all of us again. Queen's Row is a family. A... very strange family.”

“Literally, for some of us,” mused Fareeha as she took her wife's hand and glanced over at her mother with a winning smile.

Across the way was the hostess they'd seen earlier, curled up on a couch between the twin sisters. All three of them were nursing their sore feet. “No kidding. You all badger me about how much video games I play more than my own mother ever did...”

“When you're not playing on your handheld, you're playing mobile games, Hana. I try to suggest books for you to read, to no avail,” chided Efi. She at least managed to soften the blow with a gentle kiss on the cheek.

Now that the conversation had moved away from the topic of some bizarre _menage a trois_ , Emily finally started to feel a little more at ease. She settled into her seat and nuzzled Lena gently with an encouraging little smile. Things continued like that well into the morning with everyone swapping stories and jokes and even brainstorming the occasional idea for a new act.

Still, unlike all of these women, Emily and Lena still had to return to the real world. You couldn't hide in this welcoming warmth forever. “Everyone, thank you so much for an amazing evening. Perhaps we'll see you all again sometime.” As she tugged her very drunk girlfriend toward the door, she made eye contact with Amelie. The woman smiled again, more normally this time, naturally. And at the very last second, it looked as though she winked. But... perhaps she was merely blinking. That had to be it. She said it herself, she didn't have any ulterior motives when she asked to see them. Emily was just imagining things. Obviously.

* * *

No matter what city you were in, it never stopped completely, regardless of the time of day. But it happened in waves, and right now, London was definitely between waves. The nighttime energy was waning and the morning energy hadn't picked up yet. The entirety of London was sleepwalking, and it was something of a miracle that they managed to catch a cab at all.

Speaking of sleepwalking, it was clear that Lena had just about enough dozy power in her to get to their apartment, where she would no doubt collapse under her own weight on the nearest horizontal surface. Already she was half-asleep against Emily's shoulder in the backseat of the cab. But even in such a state, she pushed herself to say something. “Babe...?”

“What's up, love?”

“...I been...” She stopped, drawing in a deep breath. The hand holding hers started to grow a bit tighter. “I been thinkin'... M'not really happy where I'm at. And being back at the Row, it reminds me of the stuff I miss. The people and the place an'...” She released the heavy sigh she'd been holding back. “I'm thinking something really dumb right now and I just need you to talk some sense into me like you always do.”

“You're drunk and you miss your friends, Lena. Sleep on it tonight, and we'll talk it through when you're sober. Together. I love you, and I'm with you no matter what.” She squeezed her hand tight and looked out through the window at the passing buildings. She didn't envy the decision her girlfriend had to make. But she meant what she said, there was no way she would force her to make it alone.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Emily was the first to wake up that next morning. Hardly a shock. As she climbed out from under the sheets, she paused a moment to admire her girlfriend. Well, perhaps 'admire' was not the right word in this context. She was bent into some impossible position, tangled up in the sheets and covers. Her mouth was hanging open and she was making the most intense snores Emily had ever heard. And yet it was true, even now. She admired Lena. She loved her. Warts and all. That was what it meant to be in a relationship with someone.

She also mused on the last bit of conversation they'd had before she had to get Lena inside their apartment, into her pyjamas, and in bed. Something was weighing on Lena's mind, something heavy, and perhaps had been for some time. The events of the night before had only managed to awaken it in her all the more. And while Emily could make a few educated guesses, she knew that there was no point letting it bother her until they were able to actually talk about it.

The poor thing would inevitably have a nasty hangover, so Emily gently padded her way into the kitchen to work on the only cure she was capable of. First was the coffee, which she dutifully measured and set to brew. Then she went to the fridge and began gathering up a variety of ingredients. Normally she tried to make food that was at least a little bit healthy. But whenever she drank, Lena always craved a bit of extra grease. So fluffy omelets it would be then, with bacon and green peppers and onions and cheese.

It was just about the time Emily was folding over the perfectly crafted hunk of egg that she heard footsteps approaching. Then, arms carefully wrapped around her midsection and she felt Lena press into her from behind, leaning around to peck her on the cheek. “You're the best, love. A real proper hero, like. Everything smells amazing.” Eventually she disengaged and went to the coffee maker, pouring herself a generous amount, and adding enough sugar and milk to drown out all the bitterness. Lena took a long sip, giving a low sigh of relief. “That's the stuff...”

Emily motioned to the already-served omelet near her, nudging the plate closer. “Go on. I have a feeling you need it more than I do at the moment. This one will be up in just a moment anyway.”

In her hazy state, Lena didn't need to be told twice and happily took the plate and some utensils, going to the kitchen island to take a seat. She dove into her breakfast without a shred of embarrassment. Once again Emily felt that realization wash over her, the realization that this was the woman she loved, the one she very well might spend the rest of her life with, if fortune dictated. She took a seat on the other side of the island with her own omelet and coffee (black and sweet). If she wanted every day to keep being like this, then perhaps it would be best to stick with openness and honesty. “So... You wanted to talk about something last night?”

The offer didn't exactly make Lena look all that excited, but she wasn't covering over it either. “Yeah, I kinda remember that much at least. Um, I was gonna tell you that I was bein' drunk and stupid but... you're smarter than that.” She sighed and pushed away her plate, and Emily couldn't help but marvel at how quickly she'd cleared it. “You've met my family, you know I've always been a military brat an' all. And all I wanted was to join the service. For years, that was what I worked toward. And now that I'm here, and with a year or so under my belt, all I can think is that I never really stopped moving long enough to ask myself if that was, like, what I really wanted, yeah?” She drained the last of her coffee mug, and Emily dutifully filled it back up, sensing that this talk might continue for a while. “And I swear on my honor, this ain't just a rose-glasses thing. I know that nothin' is ever perfect. I make nice money doing what I'm doing. We're comfortable.”

Emily moved around to the other side of the island and sat next to Lena, gently nestling against her shoulder. She linked their hands together, lacing up their fingers. “That's no good if you're not happy. I can't think of a single thing I would want at the expense of our joy...”

Lena smiled, leaning in to kiss the tip of her nose. “You sap. And if I went crawling back to Queen's Row, that wouldn't be... stupid of me?”

“Incredibly stupid. But it would also mean I get to tell everyone my girlfriend is a super cool performance artist.” She giggled and returned the nose-kiss. “However, if that's what you want to do, then that means we need to have a scary second conversation about your ex...”

Lena looked legitimately upset, huffing dramatically. “Red, you know I would never in a million years cheat on you! I won't even do an act with her if you don't want me to...”

She steeled herself, bracing for the part of the conversation that she was definitely dreading. “That's not what I was concerned about. Last night, she kept... eyeing me. And maybe it was nothing. And maybe it was something.”

“Ohhh, that would be just like her! I... Wow, I didn't even really notice. Now I feel like an awful girlfriend...” Lena sighed and buried her face in her free hand. “No, that's not even really true. Amelie's not like that. If she was givin' you the hairy eyeball, it's because she wants to make sure someone decent is lookin' after me now.”

The thought of that made Emily's face burn a bit brighter. She still wasn't sure. That might have been partially true, but she could swear she had seen something more in that woman's eyes last night. Well, if Lena was really thinking about picking up a job with Queen's Row again, then Emily was sure she would end up finding out what it was all about before too long. “Well then I think we can safely say she doesn't have any reason to be worried. I love you, goofball.”

* * *

With that conversation more or less worked through, the two of them figured they might as well go ahead back to the club to investigate the likelihood that Lena could even work for them again. It was almost like it was in some third form this time, viewed in the light of day. The sign wasn't illuminated outside, and inside, everyone was working on straightening things up.

Satya was actually the first to notice them and she smiled brightly, obviously pleased to see them. “Tracer! Emily! So good to have you back. You do know we're outside operating hours, though?”

Lena chuckled and hung on tight to Emily's arm, perhaps for a bit of support. “Very funny, Sym. It ain't been _that_ long. We were hoping to catch Ana for a few moments.”

Satya looked toward a hallway off to one side. “Ana! We have visitors!” She looked back at them with a satisfied smirk. “I'm sure she'll be with you momentarily.” Job done, the dancer went back to whatever it was she'd been working on.

Sure enough, a few moments later Ana came out from what Emily assumed must have been her office. She was noticeably dressed down in sweatpants and sweater, and she wasn't wearing her eyepatch at the moment, showing off the scarred portion of her face. She held out her arms in a wide gesture of welcome, with a broad smile. “I expected I might see you again. I was not expecting it to take a mere twelve hours.”

Lena was still hanging onto Emily like some scared child hiding in her mother's skirts. “Sorry Amari. Do you have some time to talk?”

“For Tracer? I have hours. Well... not literally. But conceptually, I would certainly give you at least a full hour. Mmm, half an hour anyway.”

She rolled her eyes and glanced in Emily's direction,looking for help that she certainly had no clue how to give. “Yeah yeah, I get it, everyone here's a comedian.”

“It's the danger of the craft, darling. Come come, bring your lady.” She led the path back down the hallway and into an office that... well... it was an office. It had a desk and computer and other office-y things. Ana took her place on the rolling chair behind the desk while the two of them sat across from her. “I take it this isn't just a social call?”

Lena smiled bashfully, still holding fast to Emily's hand. Somehow, Emily got the impression she needed the comfort. “Exactly how difficult would it be for me to join the crew again?”

Ana smiled knowingly and leaned back in her chair. “Not difficult at all. But I thought you were off to join Her Majesty's Fly Boys. You aren't being discharged are you?”

“No! N-No, I'm just... I was already feeling a little lost, and seeing the show last night reminded me how much I missed the old gang. Not to mention being up on stage, performing for an audience. Queen's Row really is like a big family, and I feel bad for ever leaving.”

“Hah, don't beat yourself up dear. The grass is always greener, et cetera. Besides, this can be a rather unglamorous life, considering all the glamour, and it's not one we do for the paycheck. On a more personal note, while I might be worried about putting you and Widow in close quarters again, I would be lying if I said I wasn't happy about this. You brought a lot of levity to the stage, and everyone has been struggling to make up for it. But Tracer is one of a kind, and so is Lena Oxton.”

Emily glanced over again and noticed tears in her girlfriend's eyes. In case anyone needed more proof that she belonged here, it was written all over her face. She might have looked good in her uniform. Now Emily couldn't help but wonder about how her girlfriend must have looked under those lights all dolled up.

“Aww boss. Yer makin' me weep like a baby over here...”

Ana laughed brightly and finally sat up a little taller. “I tell you what. I'll check around, see about getting you a slot in the next day or so while you brush up on one of your routines. If it goes well and you feel certain that this is where you really belong, then we can look into drawing you up a new contract.” Surprisingly, she looked over at Emily next with a little smirk. “How about you, Emily? Any aspirations about being up there on the stage?”

Immediately her face lit up and Emily shook her head vigorously. “Hah, god no.” Still, there was something else in that question that did spark a light in her mind. “Still. Being an unemployed stay-at-home writer isn't exactly bringing home the proverbial bacon. If you all need help with anything, I might be of some use being a bartender or server. Or maybe a general gopher for the girls backstage.”

“Moira's always begging me for a 'lackey'. Prove yourself and maybe we can discuss making you stage manager. We're dying for a bit of organization, and I can't do everything myself.”

With things at least temporarily sorted, they left Ana's office so she could get some work done. As they stepped back into the main part of the club, they heard the sound of everyone applauding as Mei played the last few chords of a song. Amelie was among them, though her clapping slowed as she turned and saw them coming out. She strolled over gracefully, still looking like quite the dancer even in boring workaday clothes. “I thought I heard murmurings about special visitors. Twice in as many hours, that's quite something. Am I allowed to snoop?”

Lena laughed awkwardly, ruffling her own hair. It was a terrible tell that she couldn't seem to shake, no matter how much Emily pointed it out. At some point she just stopped bothering. “It's kind of a long story.”

“And here am I, about to go on my lunch break. Perhaps I can treat you while you tell me all about it?”

“Sure, why not!” The words flew out of Emily's mouth unbidden, and there was no taking them back, even if Lena was staring daggers into her.

_What the hell is wrong with you, idiot??_

 


End file.
